


whether by will alone

by ninemoons42



Series: Stream of Stars [3]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Military Ranks, Mutiny, Outer Space, Sequel, Space Fighter Pilots, Space Flight, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42





	whether by will alone

title: whether by will alone  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)**ninemoons42**  
word count: approx. 2590  
fandoms: X-Men: First Class, Battlestar Galactica (2004 TV series)  
characters: Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Karl Agathon, Sharon "Athena" Agathon, Hera Agathon, Tom Zarek, Felix Gaeta, Number Six, Number Eight, Number Two, Emma Frost, and cameos from both XMFC and BSG casts  
rating: PG-13  
notes: Final installment in the trilogy that began with [what the wings meant](http://archiveofourown.org/works/440968) and continued in [windows on the watchtower](http://archiveofourown.org/works/547422). As with the previous two fics, this is dedicated to Nekosmuse, Afrocurl, VictoriaXavier, and Shaliara.

  
Erik wakes to strange walls and to distant pain. The room seems to close in on him with more than just darkness; he’s weighed down in it, made to feel enclosed, and when he opens his eyes and reaches out to the meandering lines like veins in the dark it all starts to come back to him.

Pain: he’s been shot, and now he knows that the wound is somewhere along his left leg – he can feel that it has been heavily bandaged, now, the knots firmly and neatly tied off. He remembers shouting and someone pressing a gun into his hand, and a brief glimpse of men and women and gleaming metal forms.

When he remembers a hand around his and someone shouting, “Remember, the point between rage and serenity! Stay alive for me!” he gasps, and struggles to sit up, and half-fails with a cry of mingled shock and sorrow.

The Fleet! Erik remembers everything now: a mutiny, and being torn away from Charles and from Frost and from everyone else. He remembers the shock on Felix Gaeta’s face and the fanaticism on Tom Zarek’s. He remembers, briefly, the confused cry of a child.

“Charles,” he says, and again attempts to get to his feet.

He is interrupted when a voice calls out to him: “Mister President!”

The woman who hastens toward him is familiar. More than just her face, copies of which Erik has already seen wandering the halls of both _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ ; more than just her flight suit, which bears both the _Galactica_ insignia and one that simply says CC on the shoulders; more than just the contrast between her soldier’s bearing and an impractical braid of dark red hair.

He has seen her before, and it only takes him a moment to identify her and to say her name. “You’re with _Galactica_. Robin Six.”

She smiles at him, briefly and warmly. “Yes, Mister President. Hello. I’m the CAG for the Cylon fighters on _Galactica_.”

That explains the second patch. “I remember,” Erik says. And: “We’re not – with them, are we?”

In an instant the smile is wiped away from her face by worry and fear and determination. She sits down at the foot of his bed, and Erik moves to make room for her. “What do you remember, sir?”

“Being torn away from – ” _Charles._ “ – From the others. Shots fired. Hera screaming. Is she all right? Are the Agathons – ”

“They are here, sir. With us. They and you were the priority – we were under orders to make sure that you were safe, that you were taken out of the fighting as soon as was possible. We commandeered one of the Raptors and one of the Vipers to escape.” She seems to take a deep breath, and when she continues she sounds like she is gritting her teeth. “We are on the basestar, the rebel – no, the Colonial basestar now, because you are here. _Pegasus_ jumped away just before hostilities could erupt, with a majority of the civilian ships. We followed them.”

“You know where _Galactica_ is.” It is not a question. Privately, Erik wonders how he can still sound so calm.

“We are in contact with it, through _Pegasus_ ,” Robin Six says. “And with your allies among the civilian ships.”

“I need to get to the communications center,” Erik says. “I need to speak with the others. I need to speak with _Galactica_.”

“You are injured, sir – ”

“I am sorry to interrupt you; I don’t mean to undermine your authority,” Erik says, narrowing his eyes at her. “But the Colonial Fleet is my priority, over and above whatever frailties and weaknesses I might be afflicted with.”

She blinks at him, once, and then nods. “I will assist you, but I cannot do that alone. Please wait here. I will ask for more help.”

Every moment that she is away feels like an eternity to Erik, who cannot help but keep looking restlessly around the small room as though he can see through the walls, through the basestar, and thence to where _Galactica_ might be – where Charles might be. _You must stay alive, too,_ he thinks, and he covers his face with both hands, fighting for his composure.

A man clears his throat nearby. A familiar broad-shouldered silhouette in the door.

“Mister Agathon,” Erik says.

“Mister President,” Helo replies. The man tosses off a sketchy salute as he comes in, trailed by Robin Six and one of the Number Twos. “Permission to speak freely?”

Erik blinks. “Am I allowed to answer that question?”

Helo shrugs, and says, “If you don’t mind me saying, sir – you look like hell. The Admiral’s going to have my head for that.”

Erik grunts and winces when he tries to put weight on his left leg. He lists with every slow step out into the corridor. “No, he won’t,” he tells Helo. “It’s my head he’ll be after.”

Helo grunts, indecipherable response.

“You were the priority, Robin Six said?” Erik asks as they turn another corner. “You and your family, and myself?”

“Yes,” Helo says. “Xavier’s orders. He said the _Pegasus_ was to look after whatever portion of the civilian fleet would take a position against the mutineers, and he said that this basestar was to look after me and mine, and after you.”

The next question is one Erik doesn’t want to ask, because he doesn’t want to hear the answer. “And have you heard from him since?”

Helo shakes his head.

When they arrive at the basestar’s equivalent of CIC nearly everyone inside stands to salute: Twos, Sixes, and Eights alike. Even the blonde Six who is holding hands with a nervous-looking Gaius Baltar inclines her head to him briefly.

Erik looks around, startled. “I – I’m not your leader; I am given to understand that you yourselves determine your own actions as put to a vote....”

“We do that, yes,” Robin Six murmurs after a moment. “But we are also aware that our actions affect the Fleet that we are now a part of, and you are the leader of that Fleet. And it is our collective decision to recognize your authority here, within this basestar.”

“You are our President, too,” a voice adds, and Erik turns to a Number Eight in a _Galactica_ flight suit.

“You are – ?” he asks.

“It’s me, sir – it’s Athena,” she says, and she goes to support him on his other side. “Do you want a chair?”

“I can stand,” Erik insists, and the Agathons share a look before helping him to the central communications console.

“Perhaps we should talk to _Pegasus_ first,” Robin Six says.

Erik nods, and he waits for a few moments, and then one of the Number Twos flashes a thumbs up and Erik takes a deep breath. “Basestar to _Pegasus_ ,” he begins. “This is Lehnsherr. Report, please.”

“Basestar, this is _Pegasus_ – Apollo here,” and Lee Adama sounds strained. “Are you all right, Mister President?”

“No, but that’s not important,” Erik says.

“...If you say so,” Lee says. “All right. Status report. We’re a little stretched right now, because most of the civilian fleet jumped with us to get away from _Galactica_ – it was close, sir, very close. I think Gaeta was within seconds of firing on us. We got away and so did you. Starbuck and I are working to keep the ships in line and in order. We have been receiving messages of support for you.”

“I can confirm that,” one of the Number Eights says. “We have likewise received some of those transmissions.”

Erik nods. “And what is _Galactica_ ’s current status?”

“Basestar, this is Starbuck,” is the reply. “We’re listening in to some of the chatter from the mutineers. The ship is – she’s a mess, because there are too many contradictory reports about Xavier and Frost. You’d think they’d be able to search her pretty thoroughly after clearing us out. We currently have no idea what’s going on back there.”

“I see.” Erik wishes he had a chair, now, and settles for clenching his fists atop the console. “All right. What are our options?”

“Attack,” Starbuck says. “I know it’s _Galactica_. But we have to attack. We have to take her back.”

“I agree,” Robin Six says. “We cannot now negotiate.”

There are grim faces all around him, and Erik imagines the same expressions on board _Pegasus_. As for himself, he thinks he must look as conflicted as they all do.

“Let me speak to _Galactica_ ,” he says, at last. He thinks of Charles, of rage and serenity. “If they will not respond to us then you may do as you see fit.”

There is a long silence from _Pegasus_ , which is finally broken by Lee. “Opening communications to _Galactica_ , Mister President.”

“ _Galactica_ ,” Erik says – and if he sounds angry, then so be it.

“Erik, this is Zarek,” is the reply.

Someone hisses in CIC.

Erik isn’t sure that it’s not him, but he swallows down the bile that rises hot and choking in his throat and says, “Mister Zarek. Whatever it is you’re asking for at this point, I’m willing to hear you out – under one condition. Give me Xavier and Frost.”

“That’s not negotiation, that’s playing hardball,” Zarek says pleasantly. “And I don’t know that you’re in a position to do that. I have _Galactica_ – and, more importantly, I have the Quorum. Their authority is nearly equal to yours.”

“Be that as it may,” Erik growls.

There is a brief but loud squelch on the line, and then: “You have to think about unity, Erik,” Zarek says. “There are too few of us. Bring the rest of the fleet back, and we’ll talk. You can leave the Cylons behind. We don’t want them or need them.”

This time the response from all around him is interspersed with furious swearing. Erik looks up, into the cold controlled fury on Helo’s face, and says, “I won’t do that.”

Another long silence.

Erik swipes irritably at the sweat running down the back of his neck.

Zarek clears his throat and says, “Then on your own head be it, Erik – because it’s over. It’s too late. Emma Frost was killed while attempting to break out of custody.”

There are shouts in CIC and from the _Pegasus_.

Erik doesn’t hear them.

Zarek continues: “...and Charles Xavier has been tried for his crimes and found guilty. He was executed by firing squad fifteen minutes ago. It’s _done_ , Erik, and now you have to think about the fleet, about surrender.”

There is silence, and there is fury, and it is all Erik can do to stay upright even as he hears and tries to make sense of Zarek’s words.

 _Rage and serenity,_ he thinks, _but where are they now that you are gone, Charles?_

Robin Six and Athena have moved toward him, hands out, offering him support – but he looks away from them, looks down at his hands clenched into fists, looks into himself and the great howling space of his heart.

 _“No,”_ someone says, and then Erik realizes that he is hearing his own voice, distorted with anger and sadness and regret and the chains of his duty. “It’s not over – not now, not _ever_. Do you hear me?” A cold, terrible passion engulfs him, burning up in every inch of his skin. “I will use every cannon, every bomb, every bullet, every weapon I have down to my own eyeteeth to end you.”

 _You heard me make that promise, Charles,_ he thinks. _I too am capable of war, to defend me and mine._

_And you were mine, as I was yours._

He roars, then: “I swear it! _**I’m coming for all of you!**_ ”

Silence.

“ _Galactica_? Frak, no, we’ve lost them,” Lee says.

“Mister President,” Starbuck shouts. “Vipers are on standby now; say the word and we’ll attack. Are the Cylons coming?”

Erik looks to his right, where Baltar’s Six and Robin Six are in an argument with Athena and one of the Number Twos. Helo is on the outskirts of that group, holding on tightly to his wife’s shoulders.

Baltar suddenly speaks up. “Give us a moment, _Pegasus_ , they’re putting it to a vote.”

“We don’t have time – ” Starbuck growls.

“All in favor,” Robin Six shouts, and Erik watches hands go up all over CIC. “Then it will be done.” She turns to the FTL console, and says, “Bring the engines online, stand by for coordinates.” To the DRADIS operator, she says, “Lock all sights on _Galactica_.”

“By your command,” is the response.

Erik thinks of rage and serenity and loss to the sounds of the basestar’s engines powering up for FTL.

Helo steps up quietly to Erik’s side. “ _Pegasus_ , this is Helo – try to raise _Galactica_ again, will you?”

“We’ve been trying,” is Lee’s subdued response. “We’re only getting silence. Lots of static. It doesn’t sound good.”

Erik’s meditation, and the hush before battle that has befallen CIC, is suddenly interrupted when the Number Eight manning one of the communications consoles suddenly gets to her feet and shouts, “Say again! This is the Colonial basestar – identify yourself!”

Erik looks up when he hears the sharp hiss of static, followed by Starbuck’s frustrated swearing.

The new voice on the comms is entirely unexpected: “... _Galactica_ to the Colonial basestar, please respond....”

Erik watches Robin Six straighten up from one of the tactical consoles. “ _Galactica_ , we read you loud and clear. This is the Colonial basestar. What is your message?”

“Is President Erik Lehnsherr there?”

Erik looks at Robin Six, who says, “You should answer them, sir, if you wish.”

“I don’t know,” Erik says, weary and wary – but he clears his throat anyway. “Lehnsherr.”

“Thank the gods, he _is_ alive,” the voice on the comms shouts, and then adds, “Sir!”

“What?” Helo and Lee ask sharply.

“Mister President, this is the Admiral.”

“Charles,” Erik whispers. “Frak this – I – you – ”

There’s an entirely familiar growl on the line: “If I didn’t already have a reason to hurt people for doing this to you – well, no matter,” Charles Xavier declares. “All ships stand down. I say again, all ships stand down. This is Admiral Xavier. _Galactica_ is secure.”

He must not be the only one feeling overwhelmed, Erik thinks, if he can see the Number Two who is discreetly wiping away tears, but all he can think of right now is _back, back to_ Galactica _, back to Charles._

“We’re spooling up,” Athena announces. “Time to fly home.”

///

 _Galactica_ ’s flight deck is chaos, and there are men and women standing around with their hands secured behind their backs, but Erik only has eyes for the small group in blue: Frost and Salvadore and Darkholme, and standing slightly separate from them – a man wearing an Admiral’s wings.

Hera bolts from the Raptor as soon as it stops moving, running to the women as fast as her little legs can take her, and Athena and Helo hold hands and follow more sedately in her wake.

Erik has to hang on to one of the bulkheads, and cannot move for the mingled joy and pain rooting him to the spot.

He watches Helo shake hands with Charles, watches Charles nod and wave back to Hera, and then – and then Charles is heading toward him, and Erik sways on his feet and, it seems, into Charles’s steady hands.

“I’m here,” Charles says.

“Yes,” Erik says, and allows himself to relax, allows Charles to take his weight. “Don’t you leave me again.”

“I won’t, Erik, if you’ll stay with me.”

 _“Yes,”_ Erik says again, and kisses him.

**fin**  



End file.
